


What Makes a Man

by Mistress_of_Squirrels



Series: Wasteland Wanderings  - Kinkmeme Prompts [1]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: F/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-20
Updated: 2016-01-20
Packaged: 2018-05-15 04:07:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5770684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mistress_of_Squirrels/pseuds/Mistress_of_Squirrels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A careless assumption bothers Hancock more than Nora thinks it should. She does her best to reassure him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Makes a Man

**Author's Note:**

> Another kink Meme prompt: http://falloutkinkmeme.livejournal.com/6855.html?thread=17022151#t17022151
> 
> So my SS is traveling with her ghoul boyfriend to Bunker Hill. They're walking around and that little shit if a child, Meg, cries out, "Feral, feral!" My SS looks back to see if there is a feral ghoul but NO she's talking about Hancock. And he responds, "It happens" in the most depressing tone. 
> 
> So my prompt is that a SS drags Hancock to the nearest bed, or at home base,after said incident, and shows him that he's only feral between the sheets. I'm pretty partial to a F!SS because I'm attached to mine but I just need something please! 
> 
>  
> 
> I do not have a lot of experience writing smut, so consider yourself warned.

  
Nora shifted, resettling the weight of her pack to a more comfortable position and cast a critical eye to the sky. Only a sliver of the sun remained, painting the land in muted hues of gold and orange. Night would be on them soon, and the survivor had no desire to be caught out in the open when the last bit of light slipped away. All sorts of dangerous creatures called the wasteland home; stumbling into one of them half-blind had a permanent spot near the top of her list of 'Things Not to Do in the Commonwealth'.

“Hey Hancock,” she called over her shoulder. The ghoul looked up from his customary position behind her and she waved a hand to indicate the deepening shadows that were creeping in around them. “What do you say we call it a night?”

“Works for me,” he replied with a shrug. He lit a cigarette, dark eyes scanning the surrounding area as he worked out their location. The mayor exhaled a cloud of smoke and pointed to the silhouette of the giant obelisk not too far off in the distance. “Closest settlement is Bunker Hill. We can probably make it there before it gets too dark.”

Nora eyed the ancient monument, noting that the structure looked a bit worse for wear than the last time she'd seen it, but gave her companion a nod and started heading in that direction. “How is that thing still standing?” the woman wondered aloud.

“Dunno,” her companion replied with a lazy smirk. “But I don't want to be around when it finally quits.”

“No kidding.”

As Hancock had said, they made it to the gates of Bunker Hill just as night had well and truly fallen. There was a brief moment where Nora thought the gruff woman at the gate wasn't going to let them in, but after a few terse questions, she stepped aside to allow them to pass, and issued a stern warning not to cause any trouble.

“Honestly,” Nora muttered as they made their way inside. “The lack of brahmin ought to be enough of a clue that I don't have a caravan, and as for a raider...really? Do the raiders just announce themselves here?”

“Probably. I heard they pay off the raiders around here instead of just shooting 'em.”

Nora snorted in disgust and Hancock rasped a chuckled. “I know, right? Where's the sport in that?”

Bunker Hill didn't offer much in the way of beds beyond a few filthy mattresses that looked like they'd seen better days even before the bombs dropped, but it had walls, electric lights, and a bar. They'd spent the night in worse places. Nora was about to head over for a drink when a young girl ran up to her.

“Hey, you're new around here, right?” the girl asked. “I'm Meg. For ten caps, I can give you a tour.”

It wasn't like she needed a tour, but Nora had always had a soft spot for kids, and that had only grown since the world had gone to hell. It was tough enough to survive out here as an adult; she couldn't imagine the struggle it took just to get by as a child.

“Alright,” the survivor agreed, depositing ten caps in Meg's waiting hand. “Give me the tour.”

Meg stuffed the caps in the pocket of her ratty jeans, eyes gleaming. “The market's in the back, the bar's in the corner, and the outhouse is over the wall,” she said in one breath, shooting Nora a smirk. “Bye!”

Forcing a smile, Nora thanked the girl through clenched teeth and considered revising her sympathetic stance toward children. Hancock let out a noise from behind her that sounded suspiciously like muffled laughter, and as Nora turned to glare at him, Meg froze and let out a shriek.

“Feral! Feral ghoul!”

Her hand immediately going to her gun, Nora stepped in front of the girl, scanning the settlement for any sign of threat. She saw none, but was uncomfortably aware of a growing number of eyes pointed in her direction.

“Oh,” Meg squeaked after a moment, wide eyes fixed on Hancock. “Uh, sorry.”

Hancock rolled one thin shoulder in a shrug, his expression set in what might pass for a grin to anyone that didn't know better. “Hey, it happens.”

But Nora did know better. She knew that disparaging tone of voice, knew he wasn't nearly as comfortable with his ghoul status as he pretended to be. Meg's words had stung, and Hancock's resignation to her reaction told Nora this wasn't the first time something like this had happened. It broke her heart.

“Isn't it past your bedtime?” Nora asked, injecting her tone with all the maternal disapproval she could muster. She wanted to say more, the opening words of a lecture stirring on her tongue, but Hancock took a hold of her arm. Meg used the shift in the woman's attention to scamper away, her ill-gotten caps jingling in her pocket.

“Not worth it, doll. Ain't the first time, and I'll bet good caps it ain't gonna be the last.”

Nora huffed in disgust. She'd run into plenty of ferals out in the Commonwealth and all of them- every last one- were mindless, shambling husks of the people they'd once been. They attacked on sight with empty eyes and gaping mouths, their emaciated bodies so twisted by radiation and decay that they barely resembled human beings. The differences between intelligent ghouls- and damn if she didn't hate that word- and their feral counterparts were so stark that she had a hard time believing any rational person could honestly mistake the two.

“That's bullshit,” she said at last. “There's a world of difference between you and a feral.”

“Glad you think so, sunshine.” He gave her a sad smile. “Most folks ain't willin' to take chances.”

“Most folks are assholes,” Nora shot back.

Hancock huffed a laugh and shook his head. “I'm not gonna argue with you there.”

He seemed to perk up a bit after that and Nora thought that was the end of it. They left first thing in the morning, and she was happy to put Bunker Hill behind them as they started the long trek back to Sanctuary. It was easy to slip into their usual routine of trading bad jokes and innuendos. Even when they weren't, there was nothing awkward or uncomfortable about the silence between them. Everything was going well, and it was turning out to be one of their better days in the Commonwealth.

Until they ran into a pack of ferals.

Ferals were fast, vicious, and tended to attack in numbers, but didn't have much else going for them. Even the mongrels that roamed the wasteland employed primitive tactics in their attacks, but ferals were beyond even that bit of cognizance. Nora and Hancock made short work of the group, and the fight was over in a matter of minutes.

Nora's eyes swept up and down the decrepit road, on the lookout for any sudden movement. When she was satisfied that nothing else had been drawn by the sound of combat, the survivor holstered her gun and flashed her partner a grin. The expression faded as she caught sight of Hancock.

The mayor was staring down at one of the bodies, shotgun still cradled in his gnarled hands. He wore a troubled frown and appeared lost in thought.

“Something wrong?” Nora asked, carefully stepping around dead ferals to stand by his side.

His black eyes never left the dead ghoul, but Hancock gave a slight shake of his head. “Nah,” he sighed. “Just thinkin', is all.”

“About?” Nora hated prying, but she had a good idea of where this was going, and every intention of putting a stop to it.

Hancock rubbed at the back of his neck, his face set in an uncomfortable grimace. He had yet to meet her eyes. “S'just...well... what if the kid wasn't that far off the mark? I mean, I know I run my mouth and shit, but what if there's actually something to it?”

“Hancock, what the hell are you talking about?”

“Could just be a matter of time, you know?” He nudged the body with the toe of his boot. “Lot of people think we'll all end up like that.”

Nora sighed, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. The idea was ridiculous to her, but she didn't want to brush off something that so clearly bothered him. “Has anyone actually seen someone go feral? And I've heard about the guy from Diamond City,” she added, before Hancock could answer. “Attacking someone doesn't prove he was feral.”

Hancock gave a slow shake of his head, patting at his pockets for his cigarettes. “Never saw anything like that myself,” he answered after lighting one. “But I've heard the stories, same as anyone else. Look, we should probably get goin'. We're sitting ducks out here.”

It was a familiar tactic, one he'd used before when he wanted to change the subject. Nora didn't want to let it go, but she wasn't going to try forcing him to continue a topic he didn't want to talk about. She forced a grin and quipped, “I bet you don't even know what a duck is,” as she started walking.

“Give me some credit, love,” Hancock snorted. “I have read a book or two in my time.”

Her attempt to lighten the mood didn't work out quite as well as Nora had hoped. They slid into their familiar banter easily enough, but there was a subtle tension beneath their playful words; a smile just a little too wide to be entirely genuine, a laugh that rang just a bit too hollow for true amusement. It wasn't long before they both fell quiet again, the only sound the dull scuff of their boots against the crumbling pavement.

There were nearing the Red Rocket truck stop when Hancock spoke up from beside her. “I'm not really the type for over-thinkin' something before I do it. You know, consequences and shit? When I got a hold of that drug, I knew it would kill me, or it wouldn't. Didn't put much thought into...alternative outcomes. Hell, I didn't even care back then. All that mattered was wipin' out that bastard in the mirror.

“But now? Sometimes, I wonder how close I came to goin' feral. Maybe I already did? I mean, people think I'm more than a little crazy as it is. You think any of those poor bastards back there knew something was wrong before they lost it? Or did they just wake up one day and decide people were on the menu?”

Nora had had enough. She could understand the fear of becoming the very monster one fought against, but that wasn't something exclusive to ghouls, popular opinion be damned. There was nothing but rhetoric spouted by questionable sources to indicate that anyone that managed to escape the process of becoming a ghoul without losing their mind was only putting off the supposed inevitable for a later date. Nora could sympathize, but she wasn't about to indulge a baseless fear.

She reached out and caught his hand, forcing him to a stop. “John, don't do this to yourself. Until you have something more solid than the assumptions of bigots to go off of, it's not worth getting worked up over.”

Hancock let out a bitter laugh. “Easy for you to say, smoothy.” He brought a rough hand to her cheek and rubbed his thumb along her bottom lip. “The thought of just losin' my shit like that someday, maybe hurting you -”

Nora leaned forward, covering his mouth with her own before he could finish that particular line of thought. His thin lips parted on a sharp inhale and she took advantage of the opportunity to deepen the kiss until he let out a low groan and they broke apart, breathless.

Pressing his forehead to hers, Hancock let out a shaky breath, his arms wrapping around her waist. “I really hate to be _that_ guy, but I'm not sure now is the time for this.”

“Now is the perfect time for this,” Nora argued, framing his face with her hands. Her lips curved in a saucy grin. “I have your attention now, if nothing else.”

“Oh, you definitely got that.”

“Good. Listen up, then, because I only want to say this once. Daisy, Kent, that asshole in the Watch that insists I'm checking him out every time I walk by-”

“Brian,” Hancock supplied absently.

“Brian,” Nora agreed, and then swatted him on the arm for interrupting. “The point I'm trying to make is they've all been around a lot longer than you, and they're doing fine. I'm not going to pretend I have all the answers, but I _know_ it doesn't work the way everyone says it does. People snap, but there's no way someone just goes feral without any warning. Someone would have seen it firsthand, especially in places like Goodneighbor or The Slog. So,” she finished, tilting her chin up to look him in the eyes, the tilt of her mouth turning coy. “You're not feral, and unless you mean it in a naughty, acting-on-impure-thoughts kind of way, you're not going to go feral, either.”

Hancock's black eyes widened and then slid closed as he buried his face in her hair and rumbled a laugh near her ear. “You sure know how to give a ghoul ideas, doll.”

“I'm counting on it,” she breathed back. Nora took the mayor's hand and gave it a firm tug as she started walking again. “Come on, there's been a change of plans. Preston can wait until tomorrow.”

She moved with a sense of purpose toward the truck stop, never once letting go of his hand as she led him through the garage and into the small office that she'd turned into a sort of bedroom. Once they were both inside, she pushed the door shut, grateful for the lock. It was normally pretty quiet around the Red Rocket, but there was no such thing as being too cautious in the wasteland. Before she could turn around to face him, the mayor was behind her, his breath hot against her neck, his voice a low purr.

“You know, anytime you wanna shake things up a bit, all you have to do is say so.”

Nora's teeth fastened into her lip as she stifled a groan. “I wasn't – wasn't sure if you'd be up for it.”

Hancock ground against her ass, making sure she could feel the hard length of his cock still trapped behind the fabric of his pants. “Sweetheart, I think it's safe to say I'm definitely up for it.”

He grabbed Nora by the shoulders and spun her around, hands skimming down her chest and sliding along her ribs until they came to rest on the swell of her hips. Nora sucked in a sudden breath as he nipped at the sensitive skin below her ear. Tilting her head to allow him better access, she grabbed fistfuls of his shirt as he licked at her throat, skin breaking out in goosebumps at the graze of his teeth. He'd already shed his long coat, some distant part of her noted.

Her hands wandered to his waist, slipping beneath the hem of his shirt to roam the scarred and ridged expanse of his back. She ran teasing fingertips along his sides, dragging her nails down the flesh of his abdomen. His lean muscles jumped and twitched beneath her questing fingertips, and she grinned in triumph when he groaned and pulled away from her.

He took off the tricorn hat first, flinging it into a corner of the room with careless impatience. The shirt soon followed, and then he was pulling her back into his arms, his mouth descending on hers in a crushing kiss. His fingers caught in her hair, his grip on the tangled mass just shy of painful as he tasted every inch of her mouth. Nora panted against his lips, reaching down to work at the button of his trousers. She bit back a moan as Hancock took hold of her wrist to still her.

“Not yet, love,” he admonished in rasping tones. “We'll get to that.”

With aching slowness, he tugged the zipper of her vault suit while his thumb teased her nipple into a hard peak beneath the cloth. She shivered against him, the sensation sharpened as the cool air sighed against her exposed skin. When the suit was unzipped to her navel, Hancock slid his hands inside, dragging them upward and along her arms to push the fabric off of her shoulders. Breathing in the scent of her, the mayor dipped his tongue into the hollow above her clavicle as he worked at the small hooks of her bra.

Nora gasped a laugh as he fumbled. That particular Pre-War garment wasn't very popular around the Commonwealth, and Hancock absolutely hated the damn things. She shifted so he could actually see what he was doing and purposely brushed her hip against his crotch as she did so. Something between a hiss and a moan was her reward, and the knowledge that it was she that had wrung that sound from him had tendrils of heat unfurling deep in her belly.

At last, the final hook came free, her breasts spilling into his waiting hands. With a low growl, he walked her backwards towards the bed, his eyes never leaving her face. Nora's heart hammered under the intensity of his stare, and just as she felt the edge of the mattress against the backs of her thighs, Hancock gave her a push, his wide grin showing too many teeth, eyes black pools that tracked the movements of her body as she bounced back against the bed.

She made a move to sit up, tried to reach for him, but he was already crawling over her. He swept her wrists together, pinning them above her head and Nora squirmed beneath him. Her tongue darted out to moisten dry lips as he leaned in so close she could feel his mouth move against her ear.

“Patience, doll,” he murmured planting kisses in her hair. “No reason to rush this.”

The arousal that rolled through her in waves, the slickness of her thighs, the way her fingers clenched in her need to touch him, were all reasons to hurry things along, as far as she was concerned, but Hancock seemed content to take his time. He trailed small, stinging bites along her collar bone, gently laving the reddened flesh with his tongue afterwards. He suckled first one breast and then the other, until she was gasping and arching into him, needy whimpers escaping from between her clenched teeth. She ached to hold him against her, but every time Nora managed to free her hands, Hancock was quick to recapture them and place them firmly back above her head, stopping whatever sweet torment he was currently in the middle of until she got the message that she was not to move.

When he finally got around to tugging her suit the rest of the way down, she could have wept in relief. Her hips jerked as he slicked a finger in her folds, tracing slow circles around her clit. Nora trembled beneath the onslaught of sensation, caught in an agonizing limbo of too much and not near enough. Her breath came in hitching sobs as she writhed beneath him, and Hancock ran a soothing hand along the crest of her hip. He wore the faintest of smiles, but it was more than enough for Nora to read the immense satisfaction in his expression.

_Smug bastard!_

Her frustration got the better of her and she snapped, “Damn it, John! Just fuck me al-aaghh!”

The brief display of temper ended in a choked cry as he slipped a finger inside her, curling it towards him. She moaned, long and low, and he added a second finger. Waves of white- hot pleasure swept through her, only to recede and swell again, stronger than before. Just as Nora was certain she would reach that inevitable crest, Hancock pulled his hand away. She pressed a shaking fist to her mouth to muffle a cry of pure loss as she fought to get her breathing under control.

“Tell me what you want, love,” the mayor urged, that lazy smirk stretched across his craggy features, onyx eyes bright with lust.

“I-I already did!” Nora bit out, trying to swim through the fog that had enveloped her brain.

“Yeah, couldn't quite make out what you trying to say there. Tell me again, doll. I wanna hear it.”

The survivor made a silent vow: once she got what she wanted, he would pay dearly for his ruthless teasing. Her mind toyed with all the different ways she could get him back, her lips curving in a dazed smile. As if he were able to sense that she was drifting, Hancock ran his thumb along her slit, bringing her crashing back into the present.

“I need you inside me, John, please!” Nora was distantly aware of the breathy note of pleading in her voice, but too far gone to care.

“Well, why didn't you just say so?” he drawled.

She glared at him through bleary eyes and was stunned to find that at some point, Hancock had undone his pants. He was sprawled out at her feet, head propped up in one hand as he lazily stroked his cock with the other. Before she could work out when that had happened, he sat up and flipped her roughly onto her stomach. She barely had time to get her hands beneath her when he jerked her hips up and entered her in one hard thrust. A wailing cry was torn from her throat as her hands scrabbled for purchase in the rumpled bed clothes.

There was a sharp sting at her scalp and it took the survivor a moment to realize that Hancock had his hand fisted in her hair. She tipped her head back to relieve the pressure and howled as his teeth latched onto her neck, his blunt nails raking down her back.

She rocked against him, meeting every thrust in the punishing rhythm he set. What sounds managed to filter through the numbed haze of her thoughts were a dizzying mix of the obscene: the slapping of flesh against flesh, the guttural grunts and growls from Hancock, and the thin, reedy moans of pleasure that she recognized were coming from her.

A fine sheen of sweat broke out all over her body, her limbs shaking from the building tension. The wave was growing higher and higher, and Nora had the vague sensation of being swept along in the current.

Hancock's words were a hoarse whisper, floating to her on the rising ride. “Come for me, doll. Don't hold back,” he added as her teeth set in her lip. “Let me hear it.”

The wave broke, crashing down around her. Nora shrieked, his name pouring from her in a desperate litany. Hancock gave one final thrust and went taut, his fingers digging into the meat of her upper thighs. She was probably going to be sporting a few bruises come morning, but they would not be the only mementos she carried with her.

Hancock slumped against her back, panting hot breaths against her neck, and she found that her arms could no longer bear her weight. When he rolled off of her, Nora collapsed into a boneless heap. Hancock was lying on his back beside her, an arm flung over his face, one hand blindly seeking hers. She reached out, entwining her fingers with his, and he rolled towards her, never opening his eyes. He pulled her flush against him and draped an arm over the curve of her waist, nuzzling his face into the back of her neck. Nora groped for the blanket and pulled it across them.

“Love you, sunshine.”

“I love you, too, John,” she whispered, giving his hand a squeeze.

He let out a soft sigh, and it wasn't long before the deep, even rhythm of his breathing indicated he'd fallen asleep. As exhausted as she was, Nora couldn't resist the rare chance to watch him as he slept. She brushed her fingertips against his knuckles as she watched the slow rise and fall of his chest, marveling at how young he appeared with his features relaxed in sleep.

She didn't know if she'd gotten through to him today or if he was just humoring her. She wanted to think she had, but with Hancock, it was hard to tell. In the end, right before slumber overtook her, she decided it didn't really matter. The message was worth repeating, and she'd tell him as often as he needed to hear it.


End file.
